The Child

Afterwards, Yan made his way to the old dean as agreed.

"Child, are you settling in well here?" Seeing Yan approach, the old dean set down his hoe, wiped his sweat, and inquired kindly.

"Everything is fine, sir. Brother Cisheng and the senior disciples all treat me very well." However, Yan found it somewhat difficult to adjust, because the old dean's daily demeanor was a bit different from how he'd imagined such a venerable figure would act.

"It's just... it's just that senior disciple Xiao! He's always trying to scare me, especially when we disciples are out late. I'd be walking along fine when suddenly someone appears up ahead. It seems normal at first, but halfway there, when I look up, I see two huge eyes staring right at me before I can even turn around!" Yan complained with grievance, his voice trembling. "You have no idea how much psychological damage this has caused me!" He was practically weeping.

The old dean, momentarily at a loss for words to comfort him, replied with a hint of guilt, "Indeed, that rascal Xiao has gone too far. How could he frighten a fellow disciple like that? Don't worry, I'll go and teach him a lesson right now!"

Hanxiao happened to be passing by. He turned his head to see what was happening and spotted Yan complaining to the old dean. Sensing imminent trouble, he immediately and quietly slipped away.

"Old Dean, what were you just..." Having calmed down a bit with the old dean's reassurance, Yan finally remembered to ask.

"Farming, of course! The environment here is perfect for growing wheat!" The old dean proudly led Yan to look at the wheat in his field. Every grain was plump and round, every stalk heavy with a bountiful harvest.

"Old Dean, this is really impressive! The wheat from the few acres back in my hometown can't compare to this!" Yan gazed at the wheat, mesmerized, and praised it almost unconsciously. Although he had hardly ever worked the fields himself, he was always the one responsible for gathering the harvest each year. If the yield was poor, his parents would vent their frustration on him first. Consequently, he had developed a very accurate eye for judging the quality and yield of wheat.

Hearing that someone appreciated the fruits of his hard labor, the old dean was overjoyed.

"Yan, in a few days your senior disciples will have a sparring session. You must come! Observing their matches will be a great help for your future cultivation. As for now..." The old dean stroked his beard in thought for a moment. "It's a good time to assess Cisheng's teaching ability. Let's test your theoretical knowledge! I happen to have some books here; take them back and review them thoroughly!"

Yan had never taken any kind of exam before. While studying theory earlier, he had always wanted to prove himself but lacked the means. Seeing an opportunity, he tentatively asked, "Old Dean, could this exam include more fellow disciples? I've studied with Brother Cisheng for a long time and have basically memorized what I should. I just want to see what level my theoretical knowledge is at. Please!"

Seeing Yan's earnest desire for knowledge, and considering it had been a long time since the last assessment, the old dean nodded in agreement. He even specifically arranged for Cisheng to be the chief examiner.

When the news reached every disciple, their minds were in turmoil. Eager to show off during the sparring session, many chose to enter seclusion for cultivation immediately. As for theoretical knowledge, those who had transferred from the neighboring mountain had only recently begun studying it, while those who had entered through their own merit in the trials didn't even consider theory a priority.

Now, with an exam suddenly added, the few who were eager to shine were in a tough spot. They hurriedly reviewed the theory during daylight hours, and at night they still had to consolidate their cultivation and practice their techniques. They had probably cursed the person who stirred things up—the one who caused the old dean to decide on this exam—to the ninth degree.

For a time, discontent filled the Sub-Institute. Yan naturally couldn't understand why everyone was so displeased with such a good opportunity to prove themselves. But seeing their state, he intentionally or unintentionally reduced his ventures outside his quarters. Time passed quickly, and thankfully no one sought him out. It seemed he hadn't been discovered.

The day before the test, Yan didn't sleep all night. He started flipping through a few pages but quickly lost the patience to continue. Lying in bed, thoughts of tomorrow's exam tossed him into restless anxiety, making it impossible to sleep. He thought about going out for a walk, but the angry, anxious roars and curses of those reviewing their studies drifted in, unsettling him. He returned, resumed fretting, unable to sit still.

The next day, with dark circles under his eyes and dragging his feet, he entered the grand hall, took his seat, and the test began.

A bamboo slip was placed before him. The characters on it were dense and blurry, as if floating and swirling before his eyes. Everything danced and blurred; his head felt like it had been filled with several pounds of lead, too heavy to lift, yet he dared not let it drop.

After fumbling to find his brush, he barely managed to decipher one question. He raised the brush, wrote a single character, then his head drooped heavily, leaving a long, dragging streak across the slip.

Fortunately, characters written on the bamboo slip could be erased using a technique if written incorrectly, but that didn't solve the immediate, urgent problem.

Cisheng noticed Yan's distress. He approached and whispered close to his ear, "Little brother, don't be afraid. If you're tired, sleep for a bit. I'll wake you!"

Yan finally relaxed and dropped his head onto the desk with a sigh.

He drifted into a wondrous dream. He dreamt he was in a void-like space. Before him, an old man stood gazing at the sky, speaking to himself, "Between this heaven and earth, among all living beings, and even the lightning, light, rain, and air—everything can be traced to its fundamental origins."

He saw the old man pluck something from beside him and press it towards the ground. Instantly, the surroundings became enormous; grains of sand turned into mountains, tufts of shallow grass grew as large as giant trees. Gradually, the scene blurred, then sharpened again.

Countless minuscule particles were densely interconnected. They appeared vast yet always gave an ethereal, almost immaterial impression.

"This is the foundation of all things—the 'Zi'," the old man still stood there, and everything around him seemed to have slowed to a crawl. "Let me examine it further."

Those minute 'Zi' appeared to shrink once more. Within the sphere's center, a nucleus could faintly be seen, with even smaller particles orbiting around it.

Magnifying further, the central nucleus blazed with intense heat, radiating light. Though invisible on a macro scale, within this microcosm, it was incandescent.

"This... is the sun?!" Yan's jaw dropped in astonishment. He stared at that nucleus, utterly transfixed.

Unconsciously, he drew closer to the nucleus, yearning to see it in greater detail—closer, and closer still—heedless of the inferno scorching his body or the blinding light stabbing his eyes.

Suddenly, the world shook violently, and Yan awoke.

"Little brother, half the time's passed. Hurry and answer the questions!" Noticing Yan's strange state, Cisheng quickly rushed over to shake him awake.

"Brother Ci, what is 'Zi'?" Rubbing his eyes, Yan asked, still lingering in the dream's sensation.

"We're in the middle of an exam; it's not the time for questions. After the test, you can ask the old dean. His mastery in this area is peerless!" Cisheng gently patted Yan's shoulder and resumed his invigilation.

Now wide awake, Yan looked at the questions on the bamboo slip again. They were suddenly crystal clear. The brush in his hand seemed to dance through the air, sweeping swiftly across the surface. Soon, the previously blank scroll was filled with answers.

When it was time to hand in the slip, Yan didn't have a moment to spare worrying if his answers were correct. He submitted it and hurried off to find the old dean, recounting everything he had seen in his dream.

"No wonder, little one. The presence within your Immortal Seed must be very attentive toward you!" After hearing Yan's description, the old dean stroked his beard, pondered for a moment, then patted Yan with satisfaction. "To glimpse through a single dream an insight that took this old man a millennium to probe... You are truly worthy of being chosen by the Immortal Seed!"

"However, not every 'nucleus' is like the blazing sun." The old dean extended his hand and opened his palm. A vastly magnified 'Zi' materialized in his grasp. The surrounding smaller particles were the size of soybeans, while the central nucleus was fist-sized. The heart of this 'Zi' was dim, emitting no light, and held a faint chill.